Last Year
by MonochromousRainbow
Summary: Emily is just trying to make it through her last year at Hogwarts.  She has a few goals: pass Potions, keep the twins from accidentally blowing themselves up, and keep in touch with her brother.  Oh, and prepare for the Second Wizarding War.  Fred/OC
1. Chapter 1

Spending the summer at Number Twelve, Gimmauld Place, was turning out to be much less fun than I had anticipated. Although I was with the Weasleys – who could be bored with that gaggle of redheads? – summer was inching by, and I was finding myself looking forward to school more and more with each coming day. While there was entertaining dinner conversation and the twins were always cracking a joke to try and liven the place up, there was no avoiding the fact that we were spending the summer holiday cleaning a huge mansion from top to bottom. And not getting paid a single knut.

The twins were the only ones keeping me sane. The adults were all too caught up in their Serious Adult Business that was Too Secretive For Us Children, and Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were too focused on Harry to pay anyone else much attention. But the twins and I had been friends for six years now, and they wouldn't leave me to wallow in the boredom. At least not alone.

We had met in our first year. We were all sorted into Gryffindor. I wasn't the loudest witch ever, and didn't attract much attention, but they attracted enough attention to make up for my lack of. They didn't notice me first; I noticed them. And how could I not? It's very hard not to notice two boys pranking everyone that they could get their hands on.

They didn't prank me until mid-February. It had been a bad day. I had just received a _D_ on my Transfiguration paper, and Professor McGonagall had given me a detention for such a low grade. As I had walked into the common room, several Dungbombs went off inches away from me. I looked up to see Fred and George trying to bite back laughs. Their hands were completely filthy. So I did the mature, adult thing. I turned around and ran, finding an empty classroom to cry in.

They found me almost instantly. George poked his head through the door first, then slowly entered, as if he was afraid that any sudden movements would make me attack. Or worse, cling to him and cry. Fred followed him in, just as cautiously, though I caught him quickly putting a piece of parchment into his pocket. The three of us just looked at each other for a few seconds until I broke the silence with a very ladylike inhale of snot. Then they apologized quickly and spent the next ten minutes trying to make me laugh. I have to admit, they're very good at cheering people up. After that, I began to eat meals with them, and then we began to work together in our classes, and soon we were quite good friends.

So when they invited me to spend the summer with them, I was thrilled. _What could be more fun than spending the entire summer break with Fred and George?_ I had asked myself. _It will be so much fun, especially with Matthew going to Transylvania for work,_ I had said. I had envisioned a fun-filled summer spent exploring an old house with the twins, watching them work on new products as I lay lazily nearby, and then eating a delicious feast the Mrs. Weasley had prepared for us.

But instead, here we were removing doxies from the curtains while that horrible Black woman shrieked about Mudbloods and blood-traitors and half-breeds. It was at the point where I was looking forward to going back to my room and _studying_. I felt guilty just _thinking_ that. Maybe I'd just write Matthew instead.

I should explain. Matthew is my older brother. I'm a few weeks shy of seventeen, and he's almost twenty-four. I enjoy teasing him about being so old that he needs dentures. But he's in Transylvania right now. He's a Healer, and is currently looking for some rare plant that's only found near vampires that could cure some mundane illness. And since I live with him, he thought it would be a wonderful idea for me to stay with the Weasleys over the break. I don't know why he wouldn't trust a sixteen-year-old girl to have an entire house to herself for the entire summer break. Especially when said girl has such great influences such as Fred and George in her life. Go figure. I do miss him, though. Me being at Hogwarts for most of the year means we don't get sick of each other and fight all of the time like a lot of siblings do, so we get along rather well. We try to write at least once a week when I'm at school, but I've been so bored lately that I've written him daily. The letters don't actually get sent, of course, because there's nothing good to say. _We cleaned out doxies today. Didn't get bit. Mrs. Weasley made some wonderful sandwiches for lunch. Also, I decided to paint my nails a daring hot pink._ He loves me, I know he does, but I don't think he'd appreciate getting such boring letters. So I've taken it upon myself to stretch the truth a bit in the letters. Make it seem like I'm having fun, and all that jazz.

But when I saw Fred pocket a doxy, I knew that there would be something interesting happening tonight. Whenever I see one of the twins with That Look on their face, I know that they're going to be trying to make new products. Their current project is Skiving Snackboxes, which I find utterly brilliant. Even if I never use it for skipping class, I think it would be wonderful to be able to vomit on Malfoy. It would really de-stress me during NEWTs. And while I'm not an inventor like Fred or George (or a tester, not after last time), I like lounging on the bed as they sit on the floor and try to make new products. There's usually a steady stream of conversation, and there's always a chance that something will blow up and one or both of the twins will wind up without eyebrows.

And I was right: after dinner, Mrs. Weasley sent us all to our allotted rooms, and after she checked on all of us, I Apparated out of the room I was sharing with Ginny and Hermione and into the twins' room to find them on the floor with a couple of unconscious doxies and some other strange products. They greeted me with a "_Shh!_" and I took my place on one of the beds, leaning against the headboard as the boys resumed their testing on the floor.

"You know, if something explodes, your mom is going to be pissed," I whispered over to them.

A mop of red hair popped up over the footboard. Upon further investigation, I decided it was Fred; he crinkled his nose a bit more than George when his face was contorted into an annoyed expression. "We're not doing anything that could make an explosion right now, _Mom_. Chill out."

I smiled and rolled my eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Sorry for being concerned about you two. Last time I do that."

"See that it is," George bantered back quietly, though he kept his eyes on the doxies.

After a few moments of comfortable silence, I sat up to watch the twins. "What Snackbox will those be used for?"

Fred gave a shrug. "We're not quite sure yet. We planned on making it, then seeing what it does to us."

I used to get really worried when they would say something like that. It sounds stupid and horribly reckless. But that's just how they are. And they have yet to be killed. And I'll admit, nothing makes you study a couple of healing spells quicker than having two best friends who might just do something deadly to get a chuckle.

I watched them for another hour or so until I decided it was time to sleep. So I slid off of the bed and wished them both a goodnight before sneaking out the door, across the hall, and into my room. My first day here, I learned not to Apparate into a room with a sleeping Ginny. Hermione sleeps like a rock, but Ginny is a light sleeper and has a tendency to try and jinx anything that wakes her up and sounds like a threat. I think we're all a bit more on edge since He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is back.

I fell asleep quickly, my dreams filled with chaos and confusion.


	2. Chapter 2

I had kinda hoped—in a selfish manner—that Harry's hearing would add some excitement to the summer. It didn't. It came, and the only thing I felt was anxiety. Everyone felt it. As soon as Harry and Mr. Weasley had left for the hearing, taking Tonks and Lupin them, Sirius went upstairs with a yawn. I felt as though he and Mrs. Weasley were still on less-than-pleasant terms since the whole debacle in the kitchen the night Harry had arrived. Then, Mrs. Weasley had broken down in tears. I was left with the task of trying to cheer Mrs. Weasley up. I'm not good at this emotional-stuff, and I can't make jokes left and right like Fred and George do to cheer me up. So I just walked on over to her and hugged her awkwardly.

She cried for a few minutes on my shoulder, then straightened up and wiped her eyes. "I'm sorry, dear. I suppose all of the stress got to me. But don't you worry, Harry will be just fine! Now then, everyone will be up soon, so I'm going to make some breakfast. Why don't you go upstairs and make sure everyone comes down soon."

I scurried upstairs, glad to be free of the emotional scene that had just occurred, and began to knock on doors. I dropped by Ron's door first, then Hermione and Ginny's, and lastly the twins. The adults were usually able to get up on their own, and no matter how many times I was told that Sirius wasn't a murderer, I was still a bit scared. Living your entire life thinking someone is a crazed killed then finding out that no, he's completely innocent, is a big shift. I'm still getting used to it. At least I can talk to him at dinner now, though. When I first got here, I had known he would be here, and I had known that he was innocent, but that didn't stop me from sticking very close to the twins at all times and observing conversation rather than joining in. But I don't want to be the one waking him up. Just in case.

Waking up the twins was always a challenge. Sometimes I wonder if they just go comatose every night. So I knocked on the door loudly—just in case they were awake and naked—waited a few seconds, then barged on in when I heard no answer. As I expected, they were both asleep. Fred was sprawled out on his back on his bed, the blanket falling off of him slightly to reveal his bare chest, while George was on his stomach, the blanket thrown off to reveal him in nothing but his brown boxers.

"Boys," I called gently. "Time to wake up."

George snored.

I laughed quietly, then moved over to the bed closest to me—Fred's—and poked the redhead inside. He grunted.

"'Mily, I wanna sleep longer," he slurred, slinging an arm over his eyes. I gently nudged him.

"C'mon, Fred. If you wake up, I'll let you wake up George. If you don't, I'll let him wake you up."

That got him up. When the twins wake people up, they don't do the gently prodding that I do. They use cold water, dungbombs, or ice. If they're feeling especially energetic, they'll take a running jump and land on the sleeping person. Fred sat up quickly as I moved over to George's bed, hoping to wake him up before Fred got to him. They're my only connection to sanity here; I don't want either of them to wake up on the wrong side of the bed. I repeated the same process with him, then went back to Fred's bed to poke him out of his half-asleep state.

When I was sure that they were fully awake, I left them to dress on their own and made my way down to the kitchen. Ron and Hermione were already there, sitting at the table. The tension was so thick that I felt like I was walking through Jell-o as I walked over to them. That might have been my own anxiety, though; they were whispering to each other, and I felt like I would be intruding. But I did make to the table and sat across from the two of them, looking down into my lap awkwardly. I was enormously relieved when Mrs. Weasley came in, holding a plate of toast and leading the way for marmalade and a plate of bacon and eggs, which were floating in the air behind her, held up by magic.

"Here you are, sweeties. Eat up now, we've got a long day ahead of us. I was hoping to check out the attic; I think that there is a nest of glumbumbles up there, and I'd like to get that looked at. And then some of the rooms on the third floor need to be looked at—what that house elf has been doing all of these year is a mystery-"

I respect Mrs. Wealsey, really I do, but sometimes I find it wisest to just tune out adults. Or anyone, really.

Fortunately, the twins arrived with a _pop!_ soon after, so I had something else to focus on. They took seats on either side of me and both began to fill up their plates with copious amounts of food. I have no idea how two people can eat so much and not gain weight. I put some eggs and toast onto my own plate and begin to munch, watching as the twins wolfed down their food at an alarmingly fast rate.

"So, Emily," Hermione started, startling me out of my twin-watching. "You were awake when Harry left, right?"

I nodded.

"How was he?" she asked. The table went silent, and everyone stared at me. Ginny chose to come down at this time, and every noise she made sounded so much louder than it really was because of the silence.

I looked around and saw that Mrs. Weasley has left while I was zoning out. She wasn't not in the kitchen, so she was probably changing upstairs. We had enough time to talk on our own without interruption. Not that we're talking about anything _wrong_, but I feel as though Mrs. Weasley wouldn't like us gossiping about her surrogate son at the breakfast table.

"He seemed really nervous," I said. "Barely ate, and talked even less. Not that I can blame him, really, not with how the Ministry has been acting about him lately. Lupin said that the law is on his side, but I don't know if that's enough to keep the Ministry from expelling him."

Everyone nodded. "They've been waiting for an opportunity like this," Hermione said. "Anything to discredit him even more."

"It's rubbish," George added.

"Total rubbish," Fred agreed.

"But Dumbledore has to do _something_, right?" Ron asked. "I mean, it's _Harry_. And this isn't right, not at all! They can't just expel Harry for defending himself!"

"They're going to try to make it seem like there wasn't anything Harry was defending himself from though, Ron," Hermione said. "They're going to try to make it seem like he's off his rocker and a danger to wizarding-kind."

"But I'm sure Dumbledore will show up," Ginny interjected. "Ron's right, it's _Harry_. Dumbledore wouldn't let him do this on his own."

Fred opened his mouth to say something else when Mrs. Weasley came through the door, now in robes instead of the quilted purple dressing gown that she had been wearing before. Apparently, I wasn't the only one who didn't want to talk about this in front of her, because he immediately shut his mouth and resumed eating his breakfast, as did the rest of the table.

"Well then, hurry up," Mrs. Weasley told us. "We've got a busy day ahead of us."

No matter what Ginny said, I was still worried.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N Thank you very much for the kind reviews. They really do keep me writing.

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There was, however, plenty of excitement to go around when Harry returned. And not only because the loud and obnoxious cheers of, "He got off, he got off, he got off!" that Ginny and the twins provided. Almost all of the Order came for dinner that night, and my attention was torn between Tonks' ever-changing face and Mundungus. I tried my hardest to listen to Dung and the twins, but Dung's scent kept driving me away. It's not that I have a sensitive nose; he just smells putrid, like booze and cigarettes.

When Mrs. Weasley decided it was time for us to go to bed, I began to trudge up the stairs when I saw Mr. Weasley kiss Ginny goodnight on the forehead. And I felt a huge wave of jealousy.

My father is a Death Eater. He was never cruel to my brother, mother or I. He never yelled obscenities at us or hit or touched in inappropriate ways. He cheered me on when I first rode a broom and ran to see if I was okay when I crashed into a tree moments later. There's a misconception held by many that a Death Eater is always cruel at home, beats his wife and uses the Unforgivable Curses on his children. But Death Eaters are people, too. And as long as you're not a muggle-born or blood-traitor or half-blood, then you're treated well enough, usually.

My brother moved out when he turned seventeen. I was set to start school a month after he left, and I found myself spending most of my time at Matthew's apartment. He and I had always been close, and it was hard for me to let go of him. The next summer break, I brought along a trunk full of clothes to his place for when I would stay, and I would stay at his apartment even when he was working at St. Mungo's. So when my father got a transfer to China, I begged and pleaded to be allowed to stay in England with Matthew. And after a lot of discussion, I was permitted to. We had our parents over for all of the holidays and when my father could take time off of work they would come over for a week during the rest of the year, but soon things began to come up – "I'm so sorry we can't come this year, sweetheart, but your father is so busy right now and you know how I feel about traveling alone." "No, Dad, it's definitely the flu. She just vomited over her favourite shirt. Can you reschedule your trip?" – and we saw each other less and less. It's been almost two years since I saw them last.

But moving in with my brother was the best thing that could ever have happened to me. In the end, there is no way around it: my father is a Death Eater. He hates muggle-borns and half-bloods. While I was living with them and hearing their discussions about how _dreadful_ _those people are_ and how we needed to _purify the race_, I didn't actually get what they were talking about. I knew on a logical level what everything meant – I don't know of a child brought up in a wizarding household that doesn't know what a muggle-born is – but I didn't truly understand it on an emotional level. I was never asked to participate in conversations, or asked what I thought about the situation. I just sat nearby and listened.

When I moved in with Matthew, though, I met the types of people that my father hates. I learned about others. I began to form relationships with types of people that I had never talked to before. And I found it all fascinating. My brother says that it's because I have a lot of empathy, but I think it's just common sense. I can't imagine looking and Fred and thinking that he needs to die because he's kind to other people that don't share his lineage. And the idea of hating Professor Lupin is just absurd.

I still love my parents, mind you. And that is probably the worst part. In the end, I am still young and I still want to have a good relationship with my parents. But I think that if I did, it would get too confusing. They don't know that I associate with _those people_. And I'm old enough to be able to participate in political talks, so I think that if I were to spend time with them, it could get messy. I could end up in tears.

The push-pull between wanting to love my parents and wanting to hate them used to tear me up. I used to cry and scream and thrown things against the wall when Matthew was at work. I was confused and scared and I didn't know how to feel. I felt like every feeling would be the wrong one: I either hate my parents or I love Death Eaters. It's a rough situation to maneuver around in. But around my fifth year, I just accepted it all. I still don't truly understand where I stand with them, and when I begin to obsess over it I still get a headache and cry, but it's not the number one thing in my life right now.

I think that the only people who know about them are the Order members, and I'm not even sure that all of them know. And I'd like to keep it that way. It's awkward to say, "Oh, and by the way, my father believes in killing people who aren't pure-bloods." And it's even more awkward to say, "And I don't hate him."

But something about the precious father-daughter moment that I had just witnessed made me want to revert back to my younger self and throw something against a wall. I blamed it on hormones– I was due for my period any time now – and the rollercoaster of emotions that the day had brought, but the feeling lingered.

There was no getting to sleep with all of the emotions I was feeling. I decided to get up after at least two hours of lying in the darkness, listening to the gentle breathing that signified that Ginny and Hermione had had more luck getting to sleep than I had. After I put on some socks, I snuck outside of the room and went straight to the twins' room, listening quietly outside their door. It was quiet except for a few snores here and there, so I trudged downstairs into the kitchen, hoping that a midnight snack would help me get to sleep quicker. Maybe some hot milk and a bar of chocolate.

I was rifling through the fridge for the milk when I heard the front door open. Only two people came this late: Dumbledore and Snape. I wasn't too keen seeing on either; when you're friends with Fred and George, you develop a tendency to avoid people of authority. So I continued to get my milk quietly, hoping to attract as little attention as humanly possible. When I found a chocolate bar, I leaned up against a counter, slowing nibbling on my midnight (or was it later?) snack, just waiting for whomever had come into the Order to leave.

No such luck. After five or so minutes, the fall of footsteps alerted me that someone was coming into the kitchen, and before I could stash the evidences of my late-night adventures, Snape walked through the door. I stared at him for a few moments, unsure of what to say, and he raised an eyebrow in a You're-Not-Supposed-To-Be-Up-This-Late fashion, but stayed silent as he made his way over to the fridge.

I watched him rifle around in it quickly and bring out a loaf of bread and some sliced meat and cheese. It was strange to see Snape, who always carried himself around with an air of I'm-Better-Than-You, make a sandwich for himself. I suppose that I had always figured that he would be unable to make food for himself because he lived at Hogwarts where the house elves made the food, but he had to eat before he became a professor. It was surreal to see my Potions teacher acting so… normal. Mortal.

He cleared his throat and I realized that I'd been staring. "Sorry Professor," I mumbled out, feeling my face heating up and taking a drink of milk to cover up my face for a few seconds and try to collect myself again.

We ate on separate sides of the kitchen in an awkward silence. He ate surprisingly quickly, as though he hadn't been eating properly as of late. When he walked to the door leading out of the kitchen, a feeling of fear and hope bubbled up, and before I knew what was happening, I had asked him, "Professor, is my father still alive?" He was one of the few people who would know the recent actions of a fellow Death Eater.

He stopped in his tracks and stood there for the briefest of moments before he gave a quick, "Yes," and left the room.


	4. Chapter 4

The day that the book lists arrived, I was ecstatic. Between dodging Hermione's pushy requests to join S.P.E.W. (or perhaps just being whisked away by Fred or George whenever the topic came up), cleaning the mansion ("You were so keen to help the Order, you can do your bit by making headquarters fit to live in," Mrs. Weasley had told us one day), avoiding Sirius' foul mood, and hearing about all of the adventures that Matthew was having, going back to Hogwarts felt like a dream coming true.

After reading _Moste Potente Potions_ and _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 7_, I heard a loud shriek from upstairs. The twins were up there, so I was willing to bet anything that they had done _something_, but I dashed up the stairs at the same speed as if there was a Death Eater up there. I'm _really_ bored; anything that could be exciting is a reason to dash like there's a Death Eater around. I saw Hermione standing just inside Harry and Ron's room, looking unscathed and not particularly scared or annoyed, and I let my shoulders slump in disappointment, but still went to the room, resting against the doorframe to see what the commotion was about.

"Ron's prefect, not me," Harry told Hermione. My eyebrows shot up in an instant. I didn't think that any of the trio would've been appointed to prefect; they'd been breaking rules since their first day at Hogwarts. Not that I'm judging; I've broken more than all of them combined. Usually for Fred and George, but I've become a bit more reckless than I was in my first year.

Apparently, Hermione had just as hard of a time believing that Ron was prefect. "_Ron_? But . . . are you sure? I mean – " I winced at that one. Sure, I thought along the same lines, but I knew to keep my mouth shut and watch what happened.

"It's my name on the letter," Ron replied, much calmer than I had assumed he would be.

"I . . . I . . . well . . . wow! Well done, Ron! That's really – "

"Unexpected," George added. I bit my lip from smiling. He was right, though; I figured Harry had more of a chance to make prefect than Ron, being Dumbledore's favourite student _ever_ and all that.

I heard Mrs. Weasley shuffling behind me, and turned around to see her with a laundry basket, coming down the hallway towards us. I moved farther into the room to allow her in, and missed some comment made by Hermione in the process, but I saw her blushing red as a lobster when I turned back.

"Ginny said booklists had come at last," Mrs. Weasley said. "If you give them to me I'll take them to Diagon Alley this afternoon and get your books while you're packing. Ron, I'll have to get you more – "

I left the room before she finished her sentence, going to the twins' room to search for their booklists to give to Mrs. Weasley. The twins were many things, but responsible was not one of them, so I assumed that it would be easier for me to just hand over their booklists for them. But just after I had jammed Fred's list into my pocket, I heard another shriek. It wasn't worth checking out; the twins wouldn't pull something in front of their mother, so it was probably something boring.

When I met Mrs. Weasley in the hallway to give her all three booklists, she looked especially flushed and happy. And a little nervous.

"Oh, thank you for these, sweetie," she said as I presented all three lists. "Do you have much packing to do?"

I had already packed my trunks a week before, and repacked three times since then in a vain attempt to amuse myself. "Not much more," I told her, deciding it might be a bit insulting to tell her how excited I was to get out of the boring house.

She smiled. "Could I possibly ask you to help out with the party tonight? Ron and Hermione were both made prefects, and I think that's cause for celebration, don't you?" I nodded my head, though I couldn't really care less about who was made prefect or not. Maybe she just thought it was cause for celebration that Dumbledore had forgotten about all of the rule-breaking that the two had done throughout the years. "Thank you so much, sweetie. I need to have the place decorated and I just don't have time. Maybe you could get Fred and George to help, too? But don't let Hermione and Ron help; they shouldn't be helping with their own party. I'd do it myself, but I've just got so much to do, what with – "

Begin zoning out. I nodded at what seemed like the right times, letting my mind wander to Hogwarts and all of the non-cleaning fun I would have. It would even be exciting to watch the Quidditch team practice compared to this place. Maybe the twins would quit it this year, so I can stop going to games fina—

"Emily?"

That's the downfall of zoning out – sometimes people expect you to listen to them and engage.

"Sorry, Mrs. Weasley, I guess I'm still waking up a bit," I lied. "What were you saying?"

She smiled at me gently. "Will you be needing more robes, dear? When Bill hit your age, he was growing faster than we could robe him, but Fred and George haven't needed new robes in almost two years."

"Oh, no thank you, Mrs. Weasley," I replied. "I come from the same stock as the twins; haven't grown much taller in a long time."

"All right, dear. I'll be leaving in a few minutes; if you think of anything else you need, just come and find me." She gave me a kiss on the forehead, then went off, presumably to grab some Galleons before leaving for Diagon Alley. I had given her some when I first arrived to pay for the few books I'd need, since most of mine were second-hand - their previous owner being Matthew.

I wandered back upstairs again to find Fred and George to draft them to help me decorate. I figured that if anyone could make a room look absurdly gaudy and festive, it was them.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N - Thank you all for the kind reviews! They really make my day and give me the push I need to sit down and write/type.

Despite what you may suspect, I do not own Harry Potter. Don't be too shocked, now. If you recognize anything, it's almost certainly Rowling's.

Also, I swear that the story will begin to diverge from the book next chapter. I just needed to get these ones out of the way before jumping into the school year - and away from the Golden Trio. I love 'em and all, but this story isn't about them.

Okay, enough of my ramblings. At least until the next chapter. ;P

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I was wrong. Rather than decorating as gaudily as possible, the twins merely hung up a banner that read "CONGRATULATIONS RON AND HERMIONE - NEW PREFECTS" then began to tease Ron mercilessly. It was amazing how quickly they could get him to turn red as a tomato, but I suppose that siblings close in age were good at that. Matthew was nearly seven when I was born, so besides trying to kill me when my parents weren't looking in the first few months of my life (he was jealous of all the attention I was getting), we got along quite well. I think that me being a good chick magnet had something to do with it, though, because the first time he took me for a walk when I was three, several girls his age came over and cooed over me, and I was suddenly going out with him more.

The party was nice enough; everyone was smiling and laughing, which was a much needed change of pace. Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place would be dreary enough a few years back, but with the return of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, it seemed like everyone was in a bit of a funk, no matter how hard they tried to hide it. I spent a bit of time with Fred and George, huddled in the corner with Mundungus trying to negotiate a price for Venomous Tentacula seeds for a new Skiving Snackbox, but was eventually driven away by Mundungus' foul odor. I can't imagine how much he needs to drink and smoke to smell that way at all times. But when the twins scurried upstairs in the middle of the party, I decided to follow them. It's fun to see what they're doing, and Merlin knows that whatever shenanigans they're up to will be more amusing than standing around and mingling with a bunch of adults who have all seen more than anyone should.

I opened the door without knocking and gave them both quite a fright; they whipped their heads around towards the door and made to cover up the bag of seeds before they registered it was me.

"Merlin, Emily, thought you were Mum at first," George said. He smiled triumphantly, and picked up the bag. It rattled quietly. "We're thinking they'll be good for the Snackboxes."

"What do they do?" I asked, sitting on the floor by them as they rifled through the bag together. I fingered the wand in my pocket absentmindedly, just in case they were something deadly. With the twins, anything is possible.

"Well," Fred started, not looking up from the bag, "the juice makes you sick. We're thinking that some part of it could make you vomit. Least, that's the hope."

"How long would the vomiting last?" I asked, wrinkling my nose. Call me crazy, but I'm not fond of the idea of puking out my guts.

The twins looked at one another. "Huh. We hadn't thought that far ahead. Better have something to stop it, too."

I fought the urge to roll my eyes. "I bet Madam Pomfrey would have something to make vomiting stop. Why don't you wait until we're back at Hogwarts before you try them, and then see what she gives you and sell that, too?"

Fred looked at me with a huge smile on his face. "Knew there was a reason we kept you around," he teased.

"I thought it was for my devilishly good looks," I bantered back.

We sat there in a comfortable silence for a few more minutes until George got up, bag in hand, and began poking around the room.

"Hey, Emily, do you think you could hide these for us? Mum doesn't trust us - it's insulting, really - but she trusts you."

I held out my hand and accepted the bag. It was true, Mrs. Weasley did trust me for some bizarre reason, and I knew that the twins wouldn't give me something dangerous to take care of. They were reckless, yes, but they knew the line.

"Thanks, you're the best," Fred said. "We're going to go back down to the party - Mum'll get suspicious if we're gone too long. Meet you down there soon?"

I wandered out of the room after them, but went down the hall to my room rather than going downstairs with them. I looked around in what I hoped was a casual manner when going to my room, making sure that I avoided any other stragglers who were wandering around upstairs too. But I met none, and soon found myself downstairs at the party again. Now that they had gotten done with business, Fred and George were much more loud and rambunctious, and they took turns spinning me around in a dance that reminded me greatly of the Yule Ball. We were all a bit loose because of the butterbeer that had been served, and I laughed freely, feeling truly _happy_ for the first time in a couple of months. We danced and laughed and ate and told jokes (my greatest one had the twins in tears: "So now that Ron's a prefect, do you think he'll be giving you detention?") until after midnight, and only went to bed when Mrs. Weasley shooed us there, reminding us that we had an early morning tomorrow. The twins walked me upstairs, and we parted at the top, going our separate ways to our separate rooms, but not before I was able to plant a slightly tipsy kiss on both of their cheeks.

I don't think I have ever slept so hard in my entire life.

* * *

The great thing about Butterbeer is that you don't get a hangover unless you drink your weight in it. Which is fabulous, especially when you're being woken up by Mrs. Weasley and that horrible Black bitch trying to out-scream one another. I didn't even need to listen to understand that Fred and George had done something reckless. And judging from their behavior all summer, I assumed that it had something to do with magic. I dressed quickly and lugged my trunk out of my room and began to drag it down the flights of stairs - technically, I'm still not allowed to do magic outside of school, and Mrs. Weasley is very strict about keeping me magic-free for another few weeks until my birthday.

It was absolute mayhem on the first floor. The portrait of Mrs. Black was shrieking out insults left and right, the big black dog that I had come to associate with Sirius was bounding around, Mrs. Weasley was switching between yelling at everyone to hurry up before we were late and chastising Sirius, and the large pile of luggage and pets was doing nothing to take away from the chaotic scene. I quickly and quietly laid my trunk by the rest and tried to stay out of the way until Mrs. Weasley opened the front door and ushered Harry, Ron, and Hermione out with one last warning to Sirius, who tagged along.

"So what'd you do?" I asked the second the door closed.

"Why Emily, I'm insulted that you would think-" Fred started.

"They charmed their trunks to fly down the stairs and they hit me," Ginny interjected. "I'm fine," she continued before I could ask.

The twins looked a bit bashful, but otherwise unaffected by the verbal lashing that they had received just minutes earlier.

"So," I changed the subject again, "anyone wanna bet on what the new Defense teacher will be like?"

Fred smirked. "We've had some interesting ones. They'll be hard to top."

"Let's see, we had someone with You-Know-Who on the back of their head for a few years, then Lockhart," George began to list.

"Total git he was," Fred chimed in. "Then Lupin - he was cool - and the fake Moody."

It would be pretty hard to beat any of them.

"I just hope it's not Snape," Ginny mentioned. We all shuddered.

George opened his mouth, presumably to make a guess, but was cut off when Lupin walked in the front door, Mad-Eye on his tail.

"All right, guys, ready to go? You can just leave your trunks here, Moody will get them," Lupin said.

The twins and I exchanged quick glances. We had known that Moody would be accompanying us, but until now we hadn't really connected that with the fact that his magical eye would be coming. The eye that could see through all sorts of things. Like my trunk. And also the bag inside that was hiding a Class C non-tradable substance.

We nodded as normally as we could while Moody did some spell to lift all of the trunks onto a cart, and he led the way outside, levitating the cart down the steps quickly while his magical eye whirred around, on the lookout for either Muggles or Death Eaters. Probably both. Honestly, I think I'd be more surprised than scared if suddenly, in broad daylight in the middle of a residential Muggle area, we were jumped by a couple of Death Eaters in costume. And unless they _are_ dressed as Death Eaters, I'm betting that Moody won't be able to know who is and isn't a Death Eater. If I was He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, I would only send Death Eaters that I felt Moody didn't know about. New recruits or something.

We stayed back a few minutes on the steps, still inside of the Fidelius Charm, and waited until Lupin nodded and began to walk until we too began the trek to the platform. It was wonderful to be out in the sun again for the first time in a couple of months, and I let my head fall back for a second, just soaking it in. The twins were also apparently enjoying being outside once more; they both had a bit of a spring in their steps, and I assume that if we all hadn't been warned to _keep a low profile, kids, you never know who's watching_ by Moody, they'd be leaping around like children in an attempt to get rid of all of their spare energy.

They seemed to have gotten rid of most of that pent-up energy, though, by the time we got to the station - not a minute after Moody had arrived, by the look of things - and we all quickly grabbed our trunks, wanting to get mine as far away from him as possible. He hadn't noticed them yet, I could tell, because he had yet to hex any of us. I was actually quite surprised that he hadn't checked the trunks; knowing Moody, he would have probably checked them to make sure none of us were trying to sneak chimera eggs or something into school.

We said our goodbyes to the adults, and after a few words of caution to keep our eyes peeled (okay, I can do that) and our heads down (has he _met_ Fred and George?) we boarded the train just in time. We all stood there for a few moments, getting adjusted to be going back to Hogwarts, before Fred clapped his hands together and announced that we were going off to find Lee to "discuss business." Yeah, right. Knowing the twins, it'll be more like saying, "Hey, we got some illegal stuff," and then they'll all high-five and we'll all talk about our summers and get candy from the trolley and spend the rest of the train ride over talking about who we expected the new DADA teacher to be until I kicked the boys out of the compartment so I could change.

It was going to be a good year.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N I am truly astounded by the amount of reviews, fav's, and alerts that you guys have left. They all give me a little push to write more, so thank you so much. I love all of the kind words that you guys (mostly gals, I think) leave me; they make me squeal like a little girl who's just been given a pony. CC is allowed and welcomed, though please try keep your flames to yourself.

I'm so thrilled that we _finally_ made it to Hogwarts; now things can speed up a bit.

Harry Potter isn't mine. Believe me, if it was, Hogwarts would have a mandatory Naked Wednesday. Anything you recognize from the Harry Potter series is not mine.

Also, I didn't think that typing the speech that the Sorting hat gave would be the best thing to do - much too close to plagiarism for my taste, with or without disclaimer - but if you're dying to read it, it's in Chapter Eleven: The Sorting Hat's New Song. The same can be said for Umbridge's. My version of the book (paperback, American, and printed in 2004) has them respectively on pages 204-207 and 211-214, but your mileage may vary.

And, just a side-note that will make sense in about three paragraphs, I have nothing against pink. So it's okay, you can calm down and breathe.

* * *

It was wonderful being back in the Great Hall. Lee led the way to an empty place at the table and we all sat together, Fred taking the seat next to me and George and Lee taking the seats opposite us. We didn't talk yet; instead, we all craned our necks to see who the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Teacher was.

It didn't take long for any of us to spot her; not only did we all know the teachers, but she stuck out like a sore thumb in her hideous pink ensemble.

"I don't like her," I said quietly enough for only Fred to hear. He turned to me and raised an eyebrow. I wasn't usually the one to make brash decisions about people, leaving that up to the twins, but… "Anyone who is wearing that much pink has to be hiding something."

Fred laughed. "She looks like a toad. Wonder if we can convince her to eat a modified version of the Canary Cream to turn her into one," he said, loudly enough to catch the attention of George and Lee, who laughed loudly.

I laughed too, though much more quietly, and repressed a shudder as she scanned the room and caught my eyes for the briefest of moments.

"Hagrid isn't here," Lee stated when we had all calmed down. He was right. In our desire to quench our curiosity about the new teacher, we hadn't even thought of seeing if all of the old teachers were there. It was just a given that they would all be back; no one had mentioned retiring last year. At least, not that I could remember; sometimes laughing with the twins and Lee was much more fun than paying attention to the speeches that were given by teachers and Dumbledore alike.

We were all used to Hagrid coming in late after escorting the first-years across the lake, but now taking his place was Professor Grubby-Plank, a considerably less fun teacher. Not that it really mattered how fun of a _teacher_ she was at this point to me, since I wasn't taking Care of Magical Creatures, but the twins both took the class, and I could tell that they were disappointed that they weren't going to be studying more interesting (and dangerous) creatures this year. We had all been sure that this was the year that Hagrid would go all-out with his classes, bringing in the most dangerous creatures that Dumbledore would allow him to show to the seventh years.

Before any of us could speculate as to where Hagrid was, Professor McGonagall, Sorting Hat sitting on a stool in hand, opened the doors to the entrance hall and led in some scared looking first years. She led them to the front of the Great Hall, in front of the staff table, and set the stool down. I huddled into Fred's side as the brim of the hat opened, and closed my eyes to listen to the song that the Hat had come up with for this year.

The beginning of the song was mostly the same as always: it introduced the Houses and their founders and explained what each House represented. I could feel Fred relaxing next to me, probably just as comforted as I to be back at Hogwarts with the hat reciting the same information as always. It seemed as though I wasn't the only one who found comfort in the fact that even though it felt as though everything was turned upside down, there were still some things that were the same.

I think that he stopped listening pretty soon in, though, because I didn't feel any change in his posture when the Sorting Hat went off on a tangent and began talking about everyone uniting or crumbling. I opened my eyes and saw that George was staring off into space and Lee was looking up at the ceiling. The claps that followed the end of the hat's speech, though, broke them out of their trance, and I felt Fred straighten up again and begin clapping with the rest of the school.

I straightened up in my seat, too, and arched my back in a much-needed stretch. "We're supposed to band together?" I tossed out, hoping one of them had listened. First time for everything and all that jazz.

"We are?" George asked. "With Slytherins too?" He made a face as though he had smelled something foul, and I couldn't blame him. Though there were some Slytherins that were decent enough, there wasn't a single one that I would wish to be friends with.

"That's not going to happen," Fred said. "Unless you want to go over there and ask Montague out," he said to me, smirking.

I had an insult on the tip of my tongue, but was cut off by Professor McGonagall. As usual, she called out the students in alphabetical order, and they were sorted until the last girl was placed into Hufflepuff. We really didn't pay all that much attention to the sorting; we were all too busy shooting not-so-sly looks at one another, trying to convey messages about Hagrid and the new toad- er, teacher that was sitting by Dumbledore's side.

It wasn't until Dumbledore spoke again that I realized just how hungry I was. In our rush to leave Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, none of us had eaten breakfast, and though we did all enjoy some Cauldron Cakes on the train over, those didn't exactly fill me up. So I was especially glad this year when Professor Dumbledore gave his four-sentence speech and let us eat before we had to listen to any more long-winded speeches preaching about the evils of Fanged Frisbees (honestly, did anyone _care_ any more about what Filch banned? I couldn't keep track of how many things there were, let alone care about following the rules about them). I let the boys gather food on their plates first, because putting my hand in that frenzy could result in a loss of limb, then began to quickly pile steak-and-kidney pie onto my plate. There were so many things I wanted to talk about - the Sorting Hat's speech, the new professor, where Hagrid was - but I was too busy shoveling food at a blinding pace (read: about half as quickly as Fred and George) to talk about them. I'd have to snag Hermione when she wasn't busy and talk to her about it. Despite being younger than I, she's amazingly brilliant, and I'm sure that she'll have one hell of a conversation with me about it.

When the chatter had started up across the Great Hall, part of it being Fred and George introducing themselves to some first years and talking about "business deals" - Dumbledore stood up once more, effectively silencing the school without even opening his mouth. His speech was very much so the same as every year before, and I didn't listen at all until I saw him gesture to Professor Grubby-Plank. If he was going over the change in teachers, then he was going to introduce the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher any second now.

"…we are also delighted to introduce Professor Umbridge, our new Defense Against the Dark Arts Teacher."

I joined in the polite applause, and after an elbow to the side so did Fred. He shot me a glare and rubbed his side gingerly, clearly milking it.

"What, need me to kiss it better?" I whispered sarcastically. He smirked at me, but before he could open his mouth to whisper a reply, we both realized how silent it had gotten. Dumbledore had stopped speaking. For the briefest of moments I was terrified that he had noticed the short interaction between Fred and I and was going to chastise us in front of the entire school, but then I heard a "_Hem hem_," from Professor Umbridge and I noticed that she was standing up. My mouth dropped open - no one had interrupted Dumbledore's speech to the best of my knowledge, and especially not in such a rude way - and I saw equal expressions of shock on the other professors' faces that only _just_ slipped away as Umbridge went through her speech. I had found her mildly interesting before, but now that she had interrupted Dumbledore, I was fascinated by her, and soaked in every word of her speech, trying to commit as much as possible to memory to go over it again and again later. Especially when I went over it with Hermione at the next chance that I could snag her away from Harry and Ron.

I didn't gather as much as I felt I should have from the speech, only that she was a Ministry member, and that she and the Ministry were going to be changing things at Hogwarts. Why, I wasn't sure, but I didn't like the sound of it at all.


	7. Chapter 7

The next day started deceptively calm. It usually was on the first day; everyone was still getting into the groove of things, and most people weren't used to getting up so early after a summer of sleeping until the sun set. Fortunately, staying at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place had kept me on a strict sleeping schedule, because heaven forbid we sleep in late and kept the doxies waiting.

When I left my dorm, Angela and Alicia were still sleeping soundly, though Patricia was starting to get out of bed. I met the twins in the Common Room, and we went down to the Great Hall together.

It was more crowded than was usual for a first day back, but we were still able to find a nice area to sit at together. Lee typically didn't join us for breakfast, instead getting as much sleep as he could and dropping by the kitchen between classes.

No sooner had I put a stack of toast on my plate than Professor McGonagall had swooped over and handed us all our new schedules. With a quick, "Thank you," I opened mine almost gingerly, hoping for a good year. It wasn't too bad. After breakfast, I had Herbology, Potions, a free period, Charms, then lunch. Then DADA, another free period, and the day ended with Ancient Runes.

The twins quickly deposited their identical schedules on the table in favor of shoveling food in their mouths, and I reached over and grabbed one of the parchments, comparing our schedules.

"We have Herbology together. And Charms, two free periods, and Defense Against the Dark Arts," I told them. In fact, that was pretty much their entire schedule, except with more free periods. They only managed to get three O.W.L.s each, and no teachers would accept them with failing grades, so they had those three by default. I'm pretty sure that if it wasn't for their mother's nagging, they would've taken only one class each, and that one only to stay in Hogwarts and learn about their target market.

They gave grunts of acknowledgment and continued to shove food into their mouths at an alarming rate, and we ate in silence for the next few minutes until we had all eaten our fill.

We passed by Harry, Ron, and Hermione on our way to Herbology, and the second I heard Fred and George's names mentioned I could almost hear their necks snap from the speed they turned their heads to see where the sound had come from. Their mouths widened in identical Cheshire grins, and they casually walked over to their youngest brother.

"Do mine ears deceive me?" Fred asked, he and George squeezing next to Harry on the bench while I contented myself sitting next to Hermione on Harry's other side. "Hogwarts prefects surely don't wish to skive off lessons?"

"Look what we've got today," Ron replied, handing over his schedule. "That's the worst Monday I've ever seen."

"Fair point, little bro," Fred said, then handed me the parchment. I scanned it, too, and wrinkled my nose in distaste. It truly _was_ a horrible Monday. "You can have a bit of Nosebleed Nougat cheap if you like."

"Why's it cheap?" Ron asked, distrust lacing his voice.

"Because you'll keep bleeding till you shrivel up, we haven't got an antidote yet," George answered, grabbing a kipper. It's like he's got a black hole instead of a stomach.

"Cheers," Ron said, taking the schedule I was holding back for him to take and pocketing it," but I think I'll take the lessons."

"Wait until you're done with the day," I told him, "and you might reconsider."

"And speaking of your Skiving Snackboxes, you can't advertise for testers on the Gryffindor notice board," Hermione interjected.

"Says who?" George asked.

"Says me," she replied. "And Ron."

I bit back a laugh. Ron could face off a convicted serial killer (well, he _isn't_ a killer, but I'm sure that Ron wasn't thinking that when he first met Sirius), but standing up to his brothers was something I was sure he wasn't able to do.

"Leave me out of it," Ron said, confirming my thoughts.

Fred and George snickered at the glare that that earned Ron from Hermione, and Fred reached out to grab a crumpet.

"You'll be singing a different tune soon enough, Hermione. You're starting your fifth year, you'll be begging us for a Snackbox before long," Fred said.

"And why would starting fifth year mean I want a Skiving Snackbox?"

"Fifth year's O.W.L. year," George told her.

"So?"

"So you've got your exams coming up, haven't you?" Fred told her. "They'll be keeping your noses so hard to that grindstone they'll be rubbed raw."

"Half our year had minor breakdowns coming up to O.W.L.s. Tears and tantrums . . . Patricia Stimpson kept coming over faint. . . ." George reminisced.

"Kenneth Towler came out in boils, d'you remember?" Fred said.

"That's 'cause you put Bulbadox Powder in his pajamas," I reminded him.

Fred grinned. "Oh yeah. I'd forgotten. . . . Hard to keep track sometimes, isn't it?"

"Anyways, it's a nightmare of a year, the fifth. If you care about your exam results anyway. Fred and I managed to keep our spirits up somehow." Yeah, by stealing my book whenever I felt the need to study or do homework. I'm still amazed that I was able to get any more O.W.L.s than the twins.

"Yeah . . . you got, what was it, three O.W.L.s each?" Ron teased.

"Yep," Fred shrugged. "But we feel our futures lie outside the world of academic excellence. That's Emily's job."

I rolled my eyes. I'm hoping to become a potioneer. Not because I'm madly in love with taking classes with Snape, but because I think it'll be useful, and I'm decent enough at it. When I was stressing out in fifth year trying to decide what on earth I wanted to do with my life, Fred and George suggested the job, offering me a position in their shop to make potions if I did choose the career path. While I was taking double the classes that twins were taking, I thrived under the pressure and was motivated by the fact that I'd have a job with my best friends when it was all over.

"We seriously debated whether we were going to bother coming back for our seventh year," George said. I had helped influence their decision with that one, begging them not to leave me to wallow in boredom alone in Hogwarts for my last year, "now that we've got - "

He stopped for the briefest of seconds, and I knew that he had caught himself just before he had outed Harry.

" - now that we've got our O.W.L.s. I mean, do we really need N.E.W.T.s? But we didn't think Mum could take us leaving school early, not on top of Percy turning out to be the world's biggest prat. And we couldn't leave Emily here to study without interruption."

"We're not going to waste our last year here, though. We're going to use it to do a bit of market research, find out exactly what the average Hogwarts student requires from his joke shop, carefully evaluate the results of our research, and then produce the products to fit the demand," Fred said.

"But where are you going to get the golf to start a joke shop? You're going to need all the ingredients and materials - and premises too, I suppose. . . ." Hermione asked.

"Ask us no questions and we'll tell you no lies," Fred said with a toothy smile, getting up with George. They both grabbed a large stack of toast while I got up from the table as well, and we walked out of the Great Hall. Honestly, black holes instead of stomachs.

* * *

Herbology was decent enough. We chose the spot farthest from Professor Sprout as we could, and the twins whispered between themselves as I split my attention between them and the introduction Professor Sprout was giving about the Fire Seed Bush.

Once we were allowed to work on our own, I put on my dragon hide gloves and joined in on the conversation while the three of us took turns casting the Glacius Charm to collect some of the seeds.

"Emily, we need you to be a tie-breaker," Fred started once the conversation about which types of candy to sell at the joke shop simmered down.

"Definitely Fizzing Whizzbees," I said, snatching a seed quickly as the ice around it began to melt.

"Well, those are a given, but on something else," George replied, casting another Glacius Charm on the bush and grabbing a seed himself. "We were thinking about having a section of the store just for witches."

"And we said to ourselves: what do witches want most?" Fred continued. He paused for a second, probably for dramatic affect, then went on. "We want to make a line of love potions. And we knew that you'd be able to make them."

I nodded. "Well, I do have a secret side business selling love potions. How else could that minger Parkinson get a boyfriend without one?"

Fred and George laughed with me, but before we could discuss it any further, Professor Sprout came over to check on our progress.

* * *

By the time my free period rolled around, I had a two-foot essay due by next week about the uses of the Fire Seed, and a three-foot long one on Golpalott's Third Law due in three days. By the time I had opened my copy of _Advanced Potion Making_ to start on Snape's longer - and presumably more difficult - essay, the twins were swooping down on me.

"What are you doing tonight?" Fred asked.

"Well, it's N.E.W.T. year, so probably just watching the clock," I replied dryly, trying to read the useless section in the book about the subject. "Why, got something better?"

"Wanna sneak into Snape's storehouse?" George said, grinning.

"What're we looking for?" I asked, starting out the essay with some dreary definition of the Law.

"Love potion fixings," Fred told me.

"Yeah, sure," I told them. "Sounds like a good time. And I do need some more beetle eyes; I completely forgot to ask your mother to buy me some."

"'Atta girl," George praised. "Wanna go to the kitchens for a snack?"

I looked between them and the scroll I'd been writing on.

"Sure, let's go," I said.

There'd be time to study later.

* * *

A/N: Whoa, an author's note at the end? Crazy, crazy. If you are wanting to learn more about the Fire Seed Bush, you can look it up on the HP Wiki here: http:/ harrypotter. wikia. com/ wiki/ Fire_Seed_Bush Just remove the spaces.

And, as you probably know, I don't own Harry Potter. Yet... *evil laughter*

Okay, I won't ever own it.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N Thank you so much for the kind reviews. I keep on worrying that I'll update and get a ton of flames, but that hasn't happened. Everyone has been simply lovely, and I adore hearing the feedback. So thankyouthankyouthankyou.

I tried to both keep in line with Umbrdige's speech to the fifth years, but with a few minor changed. While I do believe that most of her lessons are entirely scripted, I suspect that she doesn't have everything she says mapped out in her mind. So while the basic message of what she says to the class is exactly the same, the wording has shifted a bit. This _was_ done on purpose.

Harry Potter does not own to me. If it did, I would have explained more about Pottermore. Besides being "a free website that builds an exciting online experience around the reading of the Harry Potter books," does anyone know what it is?

* * *

Defense Against the Dark Arts was the class I was most looking forward to when the day began. Not just because I knew I'd have it with Fred and George, but also because I was deathly curious about Umbridge. We had the class just before Ron, Harry, and Hermione, so there was no way of pulling them aside to ask what she was like, so my curiosity had to wait until fifth period until I got to learn about her.

Though the classroom was the same as ever, the message on the board scared the living hell out of me: _Defense Against the Dark Arts: A Return to Basic Principles_. With Moody the year prior, and Lupin the year before him, I had gotten used to interesting classes, but this seemed like a sign that the class we were about to partake in would be more dull than one of Professor Binns' lectures. The twins apparently thought the same thing, because they tried to make a run for it, only stopped by me holding them in the room by their arms.

"Oh no you don't," I hissed at them. "There is _no way_ that you are leaving me here. Just grin and bear it and keep me sane during this."

They stopped trying to pull away from me, and we all got seats in the back of the room before they could fill up, Fred sitting to my left, and George to Fred's left.

"How were your classes?" Fred asked.

I shot him a glare. "I think you two have the right idea, taking three classes."

"Yeah, but the real way to avoid stress is just to not do the homework," George told me.

"We don't all have the luxury of having a paycheck without our education," Lee said, taking a seat next to George. "Hey Emily. You have too much homework, too?"

I nodded. "I swear, it's like they all think that we have time-turners."

He laughed. "Oh, if only. Hey, do you two think you could make some?" he asked the twins.

"Ah, you two wouldn't have enough gold to buy it," George told us.

"Or maybe it's just that you two can't make it," I teased.

Fred shot me an overly-dramatic wounded look. "Why Emily, how could you say such a thing?"

I rolled my eyes. "My deepest apologies. What must I do to earn your forgiveness?"

He laughed. "I'm sure I can come up with something."

Before I could come up with something else to say, Umbridge stood up and smiled widely at the class. "Good afternoon!" she said cheerfully.

The class mumbled as a whole, a mixture of Senioritis and exhaustion from the first day of the N.E.W.T. year.

"Now _that_ won't do, will it? I should like you to reply 'Good afternoon Professor Umbridge.' Once more, please. Good afternoon, class!"

I muttered the phrase back at her, which was more than could be said for Fred and George. They were looking at her with looks of revulsion, mouths set in thin lines. The gentle chant that the class uttered seemed to be a good enough answer for her, though, as she smiled and said, "There, that wasn't too difficult, was it? Now please put your wands away and take your quills out."

Well, fuck. No fun lesson has come out of that phrase, unless you count some choice classes with Professor Grubby-Plank. But I seriously doubted that this Umbridge woman was going to bring out some unicorns and have us sketch the details of their horns like Professor Grubby-Plank did in our fourth year.

She began her speech in the same robotic tone that she did her speech in the Great Hall in, one that made me suspect that she had memorized the whole thing months earlier. "Well now, your teaching in this subject has been rather disrupted and fragmented, hasn't it? The constant changing of teachers, many of whom do not seem to have followed any Ministry-approved curriculum, has unfortunately-"

"You mean the Moody-imposter showing us the Unforgivable Curses wasn't on the curriculum?" Fred whispered beside me. "Shocker, that is."

"Certainly learned a lot about werewolves when Lupin was our teacher," George whispered, a smirk on his face. "Can't say that he meant to teach us about it, but we learned nonetheless."

I snickered softly, but changed it to a cough when Umbridge looked my way. Of course, I would be the one to get caught, not either of the twins.

"Is there a problem, Miss-?"

"Taylor. Emily Taylor. Sorry, just my allergies. I still need to pay a visit to Madam Pomfrey for something to help with them."

"Please see that you do before the end of the day. I wouldn't want you to be suffering, dear," she said with a disgustingly fake smile on her face. Right, I'm sure that she's concerned about my health.

I gave her a nod regardless, and she went back to her spiel about what we should expect from the class for the remainder of the school year. I began to zone out, because nothing important is ever said on the first day of class, but was shook out of my trance when the class began to mumble again.

"Now now, let's try that once more. When I ask you a question, I should like you to respond with either 'Yes, Professor Umbridge,' or 'No, Professor Umbridge.' Once more, does everyone have a copy of _Defensive Magical Theory_ by Wilbert Slinkhard?"

I joined in the chorus of, "Yes, Professor Umbrdge," and was already digging through my bag for the book when she assigned us the first chapter to be read in class.

When she had settled back into her seat and stopped watching us so intently, a note was passed to me from my left.

_We still on for tonight?_

I smiled and wrote a quick _yes_ before sliding the note back over. I snuck a look up and saw that the twins had their heads together and Fred was writing on the parchment again.

I read the first sentence about a dozen times before the note was shoved in front of me again.

_It'll have to be later than usual. First years have signed up; we want to get testing as soon as possible. Probably in the Common Room; free publicity. Can you lure Hermione away for a while?_

I held in a snicker, not wanting to get Umbridge's attention again.

_You make it sound sinister. I'll try, but no promises. _

I gave it back to them and they gave me subtle thumbs-ups before turning to the parchment again.

_We're skipping dinner in the Great Hall. Prefer the quiet of the kitchen. Will probably be working on advertising. Join us?_

They had been working a lot on advertising lately. While they may not be very good at working on school assignments, they were always willing to put more time into their business. It amazed me how they had done a complete one-eighty once they'd had the idea of opening up their own business. While they weren't what I would call grown-up yet, they were much closer than they were when they were only pulling pranks around school and not thinking about what they were going to do after Hogwarts.

_Sure. Lee too?_

I passed the note back to Fred and watched it head over to Lee, interrupting his reading time. He read it quickly and shook his head, then scribbled a quick note and handed it back over.

_Can't; too much homework already. Raincheck?_

Ever since fifth year, Lee had been paying more attention to his schoolwork. His parents wouldn't be as understanding as Mr. and Mrs. Weasley if he got as few O.W.L.s as the twins, and I had caught him in the library a few times, writing essays or reading a textbook.

There wasn't much more to talk about, so we all went back to doing what we usually did during classes when we weren't together: Fred and George began to nap, Lee continued reading, and I tried to read past the first sentence.

I made it to the sixth by the time the bell rang half an hour later.

* * *

By the time Ancient Runes let out, I had so much homework that I was considering giving up sleep. We had just been assigned a three foot long essay on what we did over the summer which had to be written in runes scripture. How I was going to manage to stretch, "We cleaned. A lot," into three feet, I didn't know, but I hoped that I could convince the twins to help me improve the essay with a bit of, er, creative thinking.

"Emily!"

I turned around and smiled. Perfect, this would take a lot of time out of my hectic schedule.

"Hey, Hermione. How'd the first day of your O.W.L. year treating you?"

She smiled warily.

"I'll get through it. It's not much worse than my third year. How has the first day of your N.E.W.T. year been?"

I sighed. "I'm not as optimistic as you. I figure that I'll last a month before I try to jump off the Astronomy Tower."

She looked at me for a second, as though trying to figure out if I was telling the truth or not (I'm not, by the way) before giving a small chuckle to humour me. I sensed the conversation dying, though, so I quickly steered it away from the topic of my untimely death.

"What'd you think about Umb- er, Professor Umbridge?" I asked.

She gave a small scowl. "She's a foul woman. Harry yelled at her ten minutes into class, and then the whole class began to debate whether or not You-Know-Who is back. She was simply furious about it; sent Harry to Professor McGonagall's office after he called her a liar. I was on my way to find him when I saw you."

I winced. "Yeah, I wasn't too fond of her either. Our class wasn't as interesting, though; we just read out of some ridiculous book by Slinkhard. I only read a few sentences, but I can already gather that it's all rubbish. Besides, she wouldn't want to be teaching us anything too dangerous, would she?"

"Slinkhard? Are you reading _Defensive Magical Theory_?" she asked.

"Yeah, how'd you know?" I said.

"It's the only book he's ever written," she told me. I have no idea how she knows all of these things, but when it comes to Hermione, you can bet that what she says is true. "We're reading it too."

"That means you can help me study, right?" I teased.

She rolled her eyes. "Really, so long as you put aside time to do your homework, it should be no problem for you at all."

"What, are you saying you don't like spending time with me?" I asked, pretending to be offended.

That finally got a smile out of her. "Not at all, Emily."

"Good. I think that we should hang out tonight then, after dinner. We could talk about that speech that Umbridge gave last night. I'm sure you understood more about it than I did," I suggested.

She blushed. "Nonsense, I'm sure that you got plenty out of it. But yes, I would love to catch up with you. Maybe we could study together in the library in about two hours?"

I grinned. "That'd be great. Meet you by the entrance, okay?"

She nodded and we went our separate ways, her towards Professor McGonagall's office and me towards the Gryffindor Tower to get a few books and to give Fred and George the okay to practice on unsuspecting first years in safety.

* * *

"What about something that causes constipation?"

My fork stopped halfway to my mouth. "Really, Fred? How old are you?"

George laughed. "Old enough to know what'll sell well. Think about it; we could have it as a pill or something. Say you don't like someone; we could use Malfoy as a hypothetical example-"

"-and a test subject," Fred suggested.

"Yeah, that'd be great! That way we don't need to convince the first years to try some."

"How would you know if Malfoy was constipated or not? I doubt that would be something he's advertise during a Quiddich match," I pointed out.

"One can tell just by looking at someone on a broom, love," Fred told me.

I wrinkled my nose. "Fine, fine, go back to what you were saying, George."

"Right, so say you don't like someone. All you'd have to do it mash it up and put it in some food, and then all of a sudden, boom! They're constipated." They both grinned at me.

I grinned back. "Do you have a name?"

Their grins slid into smirks.

"Hear us out," Fred started.

"It'll be funny-"

"-and it will definitely attract attention-"

"-and all of the best products have a catch phrase," George ended.

"And this brilliant catch phrase it..?" I probed.

"Why are you worrying about You-Know-Who?" George began.

"You should be worrying about U-No-Poo!" Fred continued.

"The constipation sensation-"

"-that's _gripping_ the nation!"

I laughed. "Merlin's beard. That's brilliant."

"Thanks, love," George said.

"We've already got a prototype," Fred told me, "but we're waiting to use it."

George grimaced. "Not looking forward to that."

I laughed harder, startling the house-elf that was scurrying around nearby. We were in the kitchen, slightly before dinner was set to start, munching on pork chops and boiled potatoes and discussing new products and marketing.

"I flipped through my _Moste Potente Potions_ during summer-" (read: was so bored that I actually _read_ some of my textbooks) "-and there's a laxative potion recipe in there. We can nix the stuff for that from Snape's store and I'll try to make that too."

"Emily, you are a life-saver," Fred told me.

"Yeah, I know. Speaking of my greatness, Hermione and I are going to the library after dinner to study or whatever. I don't know how much time I can give you two the Common Room without authority, but I'll try for two hours."

"Wonderful! We've got a full list of first-years, and Lee's agreed to help us. We're going to try out the Fever Fudge today," George said.

"And soon another year of students will learn to never trust you two," I said with a laugh.

"It's best that they learn sooner or later," Fred said. "Besides, it's not like we're hurting them. Just making sure everyone reacts the same way."

I nodded. "I know."

We sat there for a minute in silence, just eating and watching the house-elves set the finishing touches on the tables and sending the food up to the corresponding tables above.

"We found a building," George said, breaking the silence.

"Really? Where?" I asked. I knew that they had been looking for a location for their business for a short while now, but I didn't think that they'd find one so quickly.

"It's the perfect place," Fred started, his eyes lit up in excitement. "It's in Diagon Alley, and it's huge. There's a loft upstairs for George and I to live in, so the commute will be easy, and there's a big backroom, too."

"It's still a bit rough around the edges," George told me, "so we're going to need a woman's touch to make the place nicer."

"Yeah, know where we can find a woman, Emily?" Fred teased.

I gently whacked him over the head, but I was smiling too widely to be mistaken as truly insulted.

"That's great! I can't wait to see it! Wait, when did _you_ see it?"

"We snuck away during our free period," Fred told me. "Took the passage behind the witch with one eye and Apparated there. We've been talking to the owner for a week, and once we saw it we knew it was perfect."

"And we'll make sure to take you there soon," George told me. "Maybe tomorrow?"

I smiled. "Can't wait. First break?"

"Perfect," George said. "We can start taking things over there then. We've got a ton of Skiving Snackboxes that're taking up a lot of space. It'll be cool to use our trunks for clothes again."

"What a revolutionary idea! Why, you should start selling trunks that are just for holding clothes and maybe things like books," I joked.

"Why Emily, that's brilliant!" Fred joked back. "It should be you opening up a business, not us."

I laughed. "It's been said that behind every great man is a great woman."

"It's also been said that a woman's place is in the home," Fred countered.

"Touché, Fred. Touché."

He smiled. "I try, love."

I gave him a smirk. "Then I suppose you'd love to try and help me with my Ancient Runes essay? It's right up your alley; I need to lie a ton."

He and George made a face as though they had just smelled something particularly foul, but George finally gave me a yes.

"But only if you help us set up tomorrow," he said.

I stuck out my hand. "Deal. Shake on it?"

I shook George's hand, then Fred's, before pulling a piece of parchment and a quill.

"I just conned you two into helping me," I told them in jest. "I would've helped you set up regardless."

Fred gave me a gentle smile and, in an uncharacteristically serious moment, said, "And we would have helped you regardless. I- We would do anything for you."


End file.
